


Grand Entrance

by whumphoarder



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canada, Carsick Peter Parker, Danish, Don't say I didn't warn you, Gen, Irondad, Nervousness, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Precious Peter Parker, Road Trips, Science Expo, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Søren Thygesen, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tumblr Prompt, Vomiting, carsickness, like seriously this one gets a little gross, word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17935991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whumphoarder/pseuds/whumphoarder
Summary: Prompt: "Would you ever write something in which Peter gets carsick with Tony taking care of him?"Or, in which Tony and Peter attend a science expo just north of the border and Peter pukes his way into Canada.





	1. Vomiting Into Canada

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to [Sally](https://sallyidss.tumblr.com/) for beta reading and being ever so helpfully Canadian, and to [Cat](https://xxx-cat-xxx.tumblr.com/) for your edits and ideas!

****“I still can’t believe I’m going to be in a room with _Søren Thygesen_ ,” Peter says in awe. He’s scrolling through the conference workshop list on Tony’s Starkpad. “Do you think since you’re a speaker too, we can get backstage and meet him? Will he sign my textbook?”

Tony scoffs as he shifts gears on the Audi to overtake a slow-moving semi truck. Peter grins—he loves the rush of the 532 horsepower V10 engine lurching forward. “You have to be the only teenager in this country excited to see a three-hour lecture by an eighty-two-year-old Danish astrophysicist,” Tony remarks.

“A _world-renowned_ Danish astrophysicist,” Peter corrects, looking up from the tablet. “Plus, he’s like the god of clean energy!” At Tony’s raised eyebrows, he quickly throws in, “Well, besides you, of course.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry kid, I’m not feeling threatened by your Scandinavian grandfather.”

“He’s just so awesome _,_ ” Peter gushes. “If anyone is going to figure out how to get humans on Mars, it’s Thygesen.” He lets out a long sigh. “I really want to go to the Q&A panel on Saturday, but I don’t know what questions I would even ask.”

“You know you don’t actually have to ask a question to go to a panel, right?” Tony points out for the second time that day. “You can just sit and listen.”

“I _know_ ,” Peter groans, “but I don’t wanna waste what might be my only opportunity to ever speak to him.”

Tony snorts. “That’s a good point—he is eighty-two. Probably doesn’t have a lot of science expos left in him.”

Peter whips his head around to throw his mentor a horrified look. “ _Mr. Stark!”_  he gasps.

“I’m just saying ...” Tony chuckles. “Toronto isn’t exactly a stone’s throw from Denmark.”

“He can’t die,” Peter says firmly. “He’s Søren Thygesen.”

“What is he, the new Chuck Norris?”

Peter’s brow furrows in confusion. “Who?”

“Never mind. _God_ , you’re young...” his mentor mutters. Tony shifts over to the right lane to take the next exit. “Alright, alright, what about asking him something related to his biosphere project?” he suggests. “Or the new Mars Land Rover design, now that Oppy’s kicked the bucket?”

Peter sticks his lip out in a pout. “Too soon, Mr. Stark...” he complains.

**X**

After a brief stop for gas, they pull back onto the highway and Peter spends the next half hour pouring over the tablet, looking up every article he can find related to Thygesen’s Mars exploration research. Most of the journals are written in abstract, theoretical language, but Peter has always been a good reader and he can usually get the gist. Whenever he comes across a term or concept he’s unfamiliar with, he reads the paragraph aloud and Tony helps him work out the meaning.

Peter just forgot one little fact.

He can’t fucking read in the car.

The nausea doesn’t come all at once. It creeps up on Peter—slowly, gradually—until he has no choice but to pay attention. By the time he realizes he’s not feeling well, his stomach is already churning inside of him and a headache is pounding in his temples, leaving him feeling as though his forehead has been stretched too tightly around his skull.

He abandons the Starkpad, shifting his gaze to look out the window and doing his best to take deep, even breaths. Tony flips his blinker on and speeds up to pass another truck. The lurch of the engine is the same, but this time Peter’s expression is more of a grimace.

“Um… Mr. Stark?” he mumbles. “Are we almost there?”

“About ten more miles to the border, and then another eighty or so to the conference center,” Tony replies. “Don’t worry, you’ll see your elderly man crush soon enough.”

“Oh.” Peter swallows hard in an effort to push the queasiness back down. “Like, how many minutes is that?”

“Minutes are not a measure of distance, kid,” Tony retorts.

Peter groans and rolls his eyes, then immediately regrets it as his stomach rolls as well. He quickly locks his gaze back on the horizon. Between carefully measured breaths, he mutters, “I was just wondering if we’re going to stop soon.”

Tony frowns at him. “I asked you twice if you needed the bathroom at the gas station, and you said no. It’s been less than an hour and _now_ you need to go?”

Peter feels his cheeks flush slightly. “Never mind, I’m fine,” he mutters. “Just wanted to stretch my legs, but I can wait.”

“Damn right,” Tony scoffs. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he fishes around on the car’s floor with the other for an empty plastic Gatorade bottle and tosses it onto Peter’s lap. “If you have to pee, use this. I’m not stopping because you suddenly remembered you have a bladder.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” Peter huffs. He shoves the empty bottle back in the cup holder before twisting in his seat to press his cheek to the cool glass of the window. “I’m fine, Mr. Stark.”

**X**

Fifteen minutes later, Peter is no longer fine.

“Got your passport ready?” Tony checks as the car rolls to a stop behind a silver SUV.

Peter nods, his lips pressed into a thin line. That’s not entirely accurate—the passport is actually in the front pocket of his backpack, which is currently sitting on the floor beside his feet—but he doesn’t feel quite up to bending down to get it at the moment. Beads of cold sweat are dripping down the back of his neck and it’s all Peter can do to keep his stomach in place as they inch their way towards the border crossing.

“I’m thinking we’ll stop for dinner somewhere around the Falls,” Tony goes on. “Have you ever had poutine?”

Peter chances opening his mouth just long enough to breathe out a quick, “Um, don’t think so.”

Tony hums as he follows the SUV forward another couple meters before braking again. “Gotta admit, I was skeptical the first time Rhodey made me try it, but it’s not nearly as gross as it looks. You’d think it would be soggy, what with the gravy soaking into the fries and the cheese curds sort of half melting, but—”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Peter cuts his mentor off. Saliva’s been pooling in his mouth for the past five minutes, but it’s definitely not from the prospect of eating traditional Canadian food. He swallows hard and breathes carefully through his mouth.

A red minivan ahead of them clears the security checkpoint and each vehicle in their lane rolls another car’s length forward.

“Butter tart isn’t bad either,” Tony remarks, braking again. “And Montreal bagels put New York ones to shame. But if you breathe a word of that to anyone, I’ll deny it.”

With a small grunt of acknowledgment, Peter squeezes his eyes closed, silently praying the man will just shut up.

The border patrol officer waves the next car through.

“Alright, passport time,” Tony announces while the SUV ahead of them moves into the inspection zone. He holds one hand out expectantly over the kid’s lap. “Hit me.”

“It’s in my backpack,” Peter mumbles without making a move for it. His ears are ringing and he’s actually dizzy now. For a brief moment, he wonders if it’s possible to pass out from motion sickness. If only he could be so lucky.

Tony frowns, retrieving his own passport from behind the sun visor. “Well, hurry up. We’re next.”

“Right, right…” Carefully—ever so carefully—Peter bends forward to unzip the backpack. He fishes out the passport, but just as he starts to sit back up, the SUV drives off and the border patrol agent waves Tony forward.

Peter’s stomach lurches along with the car’s movement and he burps, tasting the pickles and ketchup from the hamburger he’d had for lunch. Bile is rising in the back of his throat and instantly Peter knows he has mere seconds to prevent a tragedy. His eyes dart around desperately for a cup, a plastic bag, a tissue box, anything. But there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing.

In pure desperation, he does the only thing he can think of to save Tony’s custom leather interior.

The moment the Audi rolls to a stop at the checkpoint, Peter yanks the collar of his hoodie up over his mouth and pukes all down the inside.

At the sound of the kid’s gag, Tony whips his head around. “Jesus, kid!” he swears in surprise.

Standing just outside, the border patrol agent—a gangly red-haired kid who looks to be fresh out of high school—is staring wide-eyed at the gasping teenager in the passenger seat.

Tony blinks at Peter, his expression morphing as the initial shock is replaced with concern. “Are... Are you okay?”

Peter gives a small nod and blushes, trying not to move any more than necessary. Inside his hoodie, hot, gross vomit is running all down his front, soaking through his t-shirt. “Yeah, sorry,” he rasps out. “Just… got kinda carsick.”

Tony blinks again. With barely concealed disgust, he reaches over and starts trying to wiggle the passport out from the kid’s grip, but the officer intervenes.

“Uh, it’s fine. You can just pull on through,” the redhead instructs, still staring at Peter as he waves the car forward. “There’s, uh, there’s a rest stop not too far from here.”

Peter flashes the other boy a grateful thumbs up as he pulls the sweatshirt back up over his face and heaves again.

**X**

When Peter emerges from the rest stop bathroom, he’s wearing a completely new set of clothes and carrying a knotted plastic Pharmasave bag containing his vomit-soaked hoodie and jeans. In the other hand, he’s clutching the remaining quarter of a package of baby wipes.

Tony is standing in the parking lot beside the car, his arms crossed casually over his chest and a mildly amused look on his face. “Feeling better now?”

Peter gives a half-hearted shrug and deposits the bag and baby wipes in the backseat. Tony passes him the bottle of PC lemon-lime soda he just purchased from the vending machine.

“I’ll rephrase,” Tony tries again. “Feeling better enough to get back in the car? We’re about seventy minutes out from the hotel.”

“Minutes are not a measure of distance, Mr. Stark,” Peter deadpans.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Just answer the question.”

Peter hesitates, opening the soda to take a cautious sip. He’s feeling less sick now that he’s on solid ground and his stomach is blissfully empty, but the thought of getting back in the car still makes him queasy. “Um, maybe in another five minutes?” he mumbles. “If that’s alright…?”

“Sure,” Tony agrees easily. “We can go take a walk by the Falls or something. Maybe pick you up some Dramamine.” His brow furrows in thought. “Although that might knock you out, and your buddy is giving the keynote tonight.”

“I’ll be okay,” Peter assures. “Just need a few minutes.”

Tony huffs out a quick laugh. “Yeah, can’t risk missing Thygesen. Even if you just vomited your way into Canada.”

In spite of everything, Peter grins. “May always said I liked a grand entrance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 now added!


	2. The Man, The Myth, The Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story was just going to be a one shot, but then several people asked for a follow-up. So here is Peter finally getting to meet his idol!

Peter leans into Tony’s side and whispers, “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Tony frowns. “You still don’t feel good?” he asks, his voice low. “Carsickness doesn’t last this long—we’ve been on solid ground for hours now.”

“I dunno, then maybe I’m _sick_ sick,” Peter mutters as they both take another step closer to the bar in the crowded VIP lounge. “But I feel awful. Definitely gonna puke. This was a horrible idea, oh my god, what was I thinking? We should leave, right now, immediately.”

Discreetly, Tony presses the back of his hand to the kid’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever,” he murmurs so that no one else will overhear. “And you were fine five minutes ago.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Peter replies. “I’m dying. I’m dying and I’m gonna die and then I’ll be dead.” He swallows hard and moves one hand up to clutch his churning stomach. “But just before that, I’ll puke. Violently. On everything.”

Tony quirks an eyebrow at him. “Is it possible you’re just nervous?”

Peter doesn’t answer—only continues to stare at the balding, white-haired astrophysicist ahead of them. The man is leaning casually against the bar table, wearing maroon pants and bright blue suspenders with a purple polka-dot bow tie as he chats with a middle-aged woman that Peter recognizes as one of the science expo directors.

“Oh god, he’s less than ten feet away,” Peter whispers. The butterflies that have been fluttering in his stomach have morphed into flapping pigeons now. “I don’t wanna do this anymore—I’m serious. Let’s just go.”

“Kid, you're friends with the _Avengers_ ,” Tony says with a scoff. “You go out for pizza with Captain America like every other Friday. Hell, the fucking _god of thunder_ came to your birthday party. This is just some scientist.”

Peter blinks at his mentor. “He’s _Søren Thygesen_ ,” he says reverently. “If Thor is the god of thunder, then this guy is the god of _science itself_.”

Tony huffs out a quick laugh. “I’m telling Bruce you said that.”

Peter ignores him, eyes still locked on Thygesen. “I am literally going to throw up on the god of science,” he breathes out.

“No, you’re not,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “You’re going to shake his hand, tell him how much you admire his research, and then we’re gonna go pick up a box of Timbits and head back to the hotel to continue our Trailer Park Boys marathon like proper Canadians.”

The director smiles and gives Thygesen’s hand a final shake as she thanks him for his time. Then she steps away from the bar and back over to the couches.

“Alright, we’re up,” Tony says quietly, nudging Peter’s elbow. “Let’s go make your little fanboy dreams come true.”

A fresh wave of panic crashes over Peter. “Actually, know what? On second thought, I don’t need to meet him,” Peter protests as Tony steers him forward. “I mean, I’ve already read all his books, that’s gotta be good enough. I’m sure he’s really busy, after all, there’s that whole Mars exploration thing, and the climate change stuff, and the—”

With a final push, Tony sends the kid forward so suddenly that he nearly stumbles right into Thygesen.

The scientist looks up in surprise. “Nå! Hello there, young man,” he greets. “Are you enjoying the conference?”

Peter stares back, eyes wide, frozen in place. Then all at once, his right hand shoots out in front of him. “I’m fan, your biggest Peter!” he spits out, then instantly frowns. “Oh, no, wait, I mean I’m Peter. Biggest fan. I love you,” he rambles. “But not in a weird way! I mean, I just really like your… uh, your science. And stuff…” he trails off.

Instantly, Peter feels his face flush, but Thygesen only gives him a kind smile and clasps the kid’s hand with both of his own. “It’s lovely to meet you, Peter,” he says warmly. “I have a grandson with the same name.”

Feeling as though he’s in a daze, Peter pumps the hand up and down. His brain is blanking on what to say next. His mouth, however, seems happy to pick up the slack. “I can’t believe I’m touching you right now,” he blurts.

(There’s a brief moment in which Peter is pretty sure he can feel his soul escape its corporeal vessel and drift off without him into the afterlife.)

Søren raises his eyebrows, looking amused. “Well, I am told I have very soft hands.”

Tony lets out a sigh as he rests a heavy hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Okay, that’s enough, kiddo,” he intervenes. Then, addressing Thygesen, Tony extends his own hand. “Du må undskylde min praktikants opførsel. Han er lidt nervøs. Han var bare bange for, om han ville kaste op på dig.”

Peter’s mouth hangs open, but the elderly man’s eyes twinkle as he releases Peter’s hand to shake Tony’s. “Jeg har tretten børnebørn—han ville ikke være den første,” he chuckles.

“Since when do you speak _Danish?_ ” Peter demands, whipping his head around to stare at his mentor.

Tony shrugs. “I got bored my sophomore year at MIT. Wanted a challenge.”

Peter blinks back at him. “What did you say to him?”

“Just that you’re a good kid who can’t always control what comes out of his mouth,” Tony says casually. “Be it word vomit or actual vomit.”

Covering his face with his hands, Peter groans. “I am never leaving my apartment again.”

“Now, now,” Thygesen chuckles, patting the kid’s arm gently. “I should tell you the story of the first time I met the Queen of Denmark.”

Peter lowers his hands for a moment. “Did you throw up on her?” he asks.

Søren hums a bit, a smile spreading across his lips. “Other way around.”

Peter sighs. He truly is in the presence of a legend.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English translation: 
> 
> Tony: “You’ll have to excuse my intern. He’s a bit nervous. He was actually afraid he would throw up on you.”  
> Thygesen: “I have thirteen grandchildren—he wouldn’t be the first."

**Author's Note:**

> Additional thanks to [awesomesockes](http://awesomesockes.tumblr.com/) for translating the Danish and helping to invent the exceedingly awesome character of Søren Thygesen, for whom we now hold so many dumb, irrelevant headcanons (like that he holds the Guinness world record for the longest nose hair and can play the didgeridoo).
> 
> For more Søren Thygesen, check out [Postcard from Prison!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753243)
> 
> Come and hang out on tumblr if you'd like! My url is [whumphoarder](https://whumphoarder.tumblr.com/)


End file.
